A New Year
by hatondog
Summary: A bit more melancholy take on Zane's absence from the holiday episode.  I blame Auld Lang Syne.  One shot.


A New Year

**A/N: A bit more melancholy take on why Zane wasn't in the holiday episode, building off the "Zane as hero" theme alluded to in several Season 5 interviews. **

**I blame "Auld Lang Syne" for the tone. Why on earth **_**do **_**we ring in the New Year with a Scottish dirge?**

_Eureka, Oregon. _

_December 30, 2011, 5 pm._

Fargo sighed as he stared at his draft year-end report to the Department of Defense. He had never struggled so hard to write anything. Senior thesis, doctoral dissertation…pieces of cake compared to this report.

The year had begun in another one. Thanks to the trip he, Carter, Henry, Allison and Jo had taken to 1947, Fargo had to consult his alter ego's prior report to know how 2010 had ended in this timeline. Describing the start of 2011 was a bigger challenge. They had sacrificed all year to keep their unintentional blast to the past under wraps. Only two people had discovered the secret…

He shook his head and continued typing. "The first quarter of 2011 concluded without incident."

Second quarter. The DoD knew about the Apollo capsule launch. They didn't know that Zane was responsible for inadvertenly putting the ship into the air. Fargo had ducked General Mansfield's questions on that point with talk of plasma wave generation and quantum oscillators. He saw no reason to illuminate the DoD any further.

"Unscheduled launch of modified space capsule completed without injury or loss of property. Faster than light system test successful."

Third quarter. Astraeus.

The report called for a concise summary of the mission. Starting and ending dates. Personnel involved. Costs incurred. And number of casualties.

With a click, Fargo saved the draft and pushed away from the desk. He wasn't ready to describe what had happened on the Astraeus mission. There was one more day in the year. Maybe he'd try again tomorrow.

_New Years Eve, 9 pm._

GD cleared out early for the holiday. The labs were empty by 3 pm, and most of the facility's management had gone by 4. A skeleton staff remained to monitor essential functions. The EM shield. Section 5 security. The infirmary.

Allison walked into the intensive care unit, patient chart in hand. She was dressed for a night out, but needed to make a final round. The chart reflected no change from the days and weeks before. Vitals normal. Reflexes responsive. But all brainstem functions remained depressed—pupils were unreactive, breathing was irregular.

She stood looking at the man in the bed. A nurse had given him a haircut and shave earlier, leaving a light stubble across his cheeks. So Zane looked as he had when he'd boarded Astraeus, young and healthy. Only the beeping medical monitors and his still form revealed the coma he'd been in since returning from the mission.

Shoulders slumping, Allison dropped into a visitor's chair. It had been two months since she and the Astraeus crew had escaped the Consortium's kidnap effort. When captured, they'd all been put under for a memory download using a sophisticated version of the device employed by the DoD's relationship auditors at Eureka. A military attack on the Consortium's facility produced their freedom before significant information was lost, but the attack hadn't gone undefended.

While most of the crew got pulled out of harm's way, there were casualties. Grace Deacon, Holly Marten and two others were injured. All had recovered, although Grace's injuries required extensive rehabilitation. She hadn't been released from physical therapy in time for Christmas, but would celebrate the New Year with Henry in Eureka.

Consortium goons had also managed to seize Zane. He'd broken free and tried to destroy the database of retrieved memories. In a last ditch effort to stop him, Beverly Barlowe triggered a kill switch which sent an electrical pulse through the system to lock it down. It was too powerful and fried the device's memory modules. Unfortunately, it also sent a shock through Zane. He'd been unconscious ever since.

Despite the insult to his nervous system, there was no medical reason for Zane not to recover. Yet no therapeutic intervention had succeeded in waking him.

With a sigh, Allison signed off on the day's chart entries. She rested her hand briefly on Zane's arm before turning to go. Maybe tomorrow would be the day his condition improved.

Jo came into the infirmary as Allison was leaving. She didn't need to ask how Zane was—if there had been any change, Allison would have said so immediately.

"Happy New Year, Jo," Allison said with a smile. "Are you coming to the festivities tonight?" After a chaotic year, Fargo had decided that the town could use a focal point to gather around. A ball containing an enormous Tesla coil would drop from a tower at the end of Main Street at midnight. Bands of wanna be rockers and urban cowboys would play throughout the evening. Cases of champagne would roll from the storerooms of Café Diem.

Jo glanced toward the ICU before answering. "I may stop by." Her lips twitched but didn't quite produce a smile. There was nothing else to say. Allison patted Jo's shoulder and left her to her nightly visit.

Even after two months, the sight of Zane lying in bed, connected to tubes and wires, was startling. He usually radiated so much energy that it was easy to imagine his stillness as part of an elaborate joke. So Jo never entered the room without briefly expecting him to sit up, laughing over her gulliblity.

He never did.

She lightly kissed his forehead before placing a to-go box of his favorite snacks on the night table. The box was part of her nightly ritual and its contents never varied. When she returned the next day, it was always gone. She knew the nursing staff ate or threw it away, but a superstitious impulse drove her to bring a new box each night. If Zane woke up while she was away, she wanted him to know she'd been there not very long before.

Talking was another part of the ritual. Doctors debated whether comatose patients registered sounds around them, but the idea of Zane's high-octane brain going without stimulation was unacceptable. So Jo talked, about many things and nothing at all.

"Your mom called today," she began. "She'll be out again next week."

At first, Zane's mother had insisted that he be moved to a top-notch medical facility in the Boston area. After long discussion with Allison, she'd finally agreed that he couldn't get any better care than he was receiving at GD.

With the full support of the DoD, bi-weekly flights had been arranged for Mrs. Donovan to visit her son. No one had thought more than one or two flights would be necessary. But as weeks turned into months, she began to quietly inquire about employment opportunities in Eureka should she need to stay for good.

Jo was describing the ball tower on Main Street to Zane when a soft cough behind her interrupted.

"My apologies, Ms. Lupo. I was just wondering if you needed anything." A male nurse clad in blue scrubs stepped forward. Jo began to say thanks but no when recognition kicked in.

"Dr. Drummer?" she asked incredulously. The man was someone she'd only seen twice, once the previous Christmas and once a few nights before on Christmas Eve. "What are you doing here?"

"I had some unfinished business in Eureka and extended my stay this year. I heard the medical staff is short-handed over the holidays, so I decided to pitch in." He smiled gently. "Keeps me off the streets."

Jo looked at him steadily. Whatever faith she'd once had in miracles had faded. The rumor that Dr. Drummer was really a sort of modern day Santa Claus didn't impress her. She couldn't exactly explain why no one saw him from December to December, but it didn't matter. At the moment, she didn't have the energy to challenge his presence.

"Well, I'm sure they appreciate your help. But I don't need anything, thank you." Jo turned back to Zane.

Drummer was quiet for several long moments. When he spoke, his words had a surprising effect.

"It's a New Year. A fresh start. Something good may be right around the corner."

Jo was suddenly angry. Like other people who had mouthed platitudes about time healing all wounds to her, he couldn't know what it was like to watch the man you once loved slip away a day at a time.

"I don't believe that," she said flatly. "Change isn't always good. Sometimes things just go from bad to worse."

Drummer nodded as if agreeing with her. "That's true." He gestured to Zane. "You know, I've come across a lot of damaged people in my travels. Their loved ones often wonder if life will ever be the same. It often isn't, but that doesn't mean life can't be good. Whatever attracted their loved ones to them is usually still there. It may just be harder to see behind the superficial differences."

"I'm not saying that it isn't hard to love someone who isn't as you remember them and may never be again. Many people can't manage it. That's entirely understandable." He nodded again. "But in my experience, a life that veers off its expected course isn't always bad, Jo. Sometimes, it's even better…if you have faith that it can be."

Jo just stared. She suspected Drummer was no longer talking about people changed by disability. But he couldn't know about the altered timeline. No one did, except the time travelers and those whose lives the trip had directly affected. Grace, who found herself married to a man who'd never met her. And Zane, who no longer remembered being with the woman he'd once loved.

"Who _are _you?" asked Jo.

"Just someone who believes in second chances." Drummer smiled broadly. "That's what I love about New Year's—time starts all over again."

When Jo didn't answer, he stepped away. "I'll leave you to your visit. Happy New Year."

She watched him until he was out of the ICU then turned back to Zane. She ran her fingers over his face before settling into the visitor chair. Her New Year's resolution had been to move on. How, she wasn't sure, but the emotional limbo she'd been in since the Astraeus mission couldn't continue. If Zane never woke up, she'd have to start living her life without him, once again. As Drummer had said, it was a second chance, but for what? To give up on Zane for good?

"I can't do that. I won't," Jo whispered. "Not yet. Not now."

She fell silent then into sleep, Drummer's words repeating in her brain.

_January 1, 2012, 12:01 am._

Jo jerked awake. Her eyes went to Zane then to her watch. The ICU was quiet. It must have been sounds from the New Year's celebration that woke her.

Another noise caught her attention as she stretched in preparation to go home. She looked at the monitors for signs of an alarm then froze as the noise came again.

"Jo." The voice was hoarse from weeks of disuse. But Zane's eyes were clear and open, if slightly unfocused.

"Oh, my god," Jo breathed. "Zane? Can you hear me? How do you feel?" Eyes locked on his, she frantically pressed the nurse call button then punched Allison's number into her PDA.

When Allison answered, Jo could barely hear her over the music and laughter in the background. She shouted over the noise "Zane's awake! Allison, come now—he's awake!" A female nurse ran into the room. "He's awake," repeated Jo. "Where's Drummer?"

"Who?" answered the nurse as she scurried about, checking monitors. Before Jo could explain, the room filled with people. Allison, other doctors, nurses, Carter, Fargo…Jo felt herself being pulled away from the bedside to make room for the medical personnel. Carter squeezed her shoulder reassuringly as they watched the activity.

Zane seemed confused. He scanned the room, trying to sort information through the fog in his brain. When he lost sight of Jo, the monitors registered a spike in his blood pressure. His eyes fluttered shut.

"No!" Jo yelled. Without thinking, she pushed through the crowd around Zane and grabbed him. "Don't do this. Don't give up. I will _not _lose you again."

Everyone present seemed to be holding their collective breaths. The room was silent except for the beeping of machines. Then Zane made a sound which could have been a rusty laugh. A ghost of a grin passed over his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

_January 2, 2012, 3 p.m._

Fargo smiled as he finished the year end report to the DoD.

"Fourth quarter. Astraeus mission data under review. All personnel alive and well."

His smile broadened as he imagined General Mansfield reading the summary of events planned in Eureka for the first quarter of 2012:

_Tesla School missile launch contest_, January.

_Presentation of Astraeus data to Air and Space Defense Committee_, February.

_Wedding, GD Security Chief J. Lupo and Particle Physics Lab Director Z. Donovan_, March.

Humming _Auld Lang Syne_, Fargo attached the report to an email and hit send. Yep, time was a tricky thing for sure. You could just never tell what changes a new year would bring.


End file.
